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This was it, Constance knew. This was the night she was going to die. She heard the cracks. She felt the snaps. She couldn't stop him. The hits kept coming. The blood kept pooling around her. This was the night she was going to die. She was ready. Death had to be better than this.

She heard voices. More than one. None were his though. A man. A woman. Another man. Angels. Death was here to greet her and take her away. She tried to speak. She tried to move. But nothing came out. She felt nothing. The numbness somehow seemed comforting.

Her eyes were still heavy and she couldn’t open them. She tried to move her legs. It hurt but she could feel them. Was that a sheet? So she was dead. She wiggled her fingers—no pain in her hands or arms. No pain had to mean she was dead. What was that beeping though? And why couldn’t she open her eyes?

She had no concept of time. Or space. Or anything really. She just was. So she was startled when she heard a noise. Someone was near her. Oh God, he was back. She wasn’t dead. He came back to finish her off.

“It’s okay.” she heard the voice say softly. A woman. “You’re safe.”

Constance felt her eyes slowly open. There wasn't much light so it was difficult to figure out where she was. Morgue, maybe. No. She didn’t think there would be this much noise in there. That beeping was back. Dead bodies don’t beep, do they?

It was hard to focus for a few agonizing moments. When her eyes were fully open, she looked around without moving her head. She looked left, then right. That’s when she saw the lady. She had a glow around her so she must have been an angel.

“Hello, Constance.” the lady said softly. Her voice was so gentle and calming. Constance felt safe. She didn’t know who this angel was but she wasn’t scared. No fear at all.

“Am I dead?” Constance finally managed to mumble. It was then she realized how dry her mouth was. How much her throat hurt. The lady handed her a glass of water as if reading her mind. She helped Constance sit up to get a drink.

Constance looked around as she drank. She was in a hospital. She saw the machine where the beeping was coming from. She slowly realized she felt no pain. Bits and pieces from the previous night flew through her mind in no particular order.

She took some serious hits. She heard things break. So why wasn’t she in pain? She looked around the room. Moving her head now. That’s when she saw it. The most exquisite chair she had ever seen. So magnificent. So pleasing to the eye. Before she knew it, she was getting out of bed to get a better view. But how was it that she was able to move? She couldn’t take her eyes off the chair. Beautiful green cushion. So velvety. The chair had to stand 5 feet tall. The back of the chair was the most spectacular. It looked like wings. The wingspan had to be 6 feet across. It was absolutely breathtaking. Constance reached out to touch the wings. She pulled her hand back quickly when it breathed.

How was that? Chairs can’t breathe. But she still moved closer. She looked at the lady again. Maybe for reassurance. Maybe for guidance. The lady just smiled and gestured for her to sit. As she turned to sit, she noticed a figure in the bed. She blinked, and all that was gone.

She was in a large room. Really large. Where was she? There were so many people. Mostly women. Some men. There were large round tables in rows of three leading up to a stage. Constance tried to wrap her head around what she was seeing. More people came in. There had to be dozens of people here. But why?

She heard someone yelling to make sure all of the tables were set. Some woman with something on her head was telling people where to go. People were filling up water glasses on the tables. Other people were guiding these women to seats at the tables. The place was filling up quickly. Constance wanted to ask where she was. What was going on? But no one seemed to notice her.

“10 minutes!” She heard that one woman yell at everyone. “10 minutes.”

People were scrambling to find their seats. Lights were shining onto the large stage. There wasn’t anything on the stage though. So what was this? Constance tried to get in to ask questions, but no one paid any attention to her. Could they not see her? Did that mean she was dead?

Someone very familiar to Constance walked out onto the stage. The place instantly became quiet. Although the person was familiar, Constance couldn’t quite figure out who she was. That is until she spoke.

“Thank you all for coming tonight.” The lady said. “This is a huge turnout and we are so grateful to have so many willing to help.”

Constance felt a tear run down her face as she realized who this was.

“As many of you know, I am Marie, Constance‘s sister. She will be out momentarily. But I wanted to take a moment to share my part of the story.”.

Her story? Constance was confused again. She hadn’t spoken to Marie in at least five years. Not because she didn’t want to. She couldn’t. She was scared. And ashamed. So what was going on?

“We all hear the stories of the victims. But I’m here to tell you, I was a victim too. Constance was my big sister. My protector. In school, I got teased because I listened to my own drummer. Followed my own path. But Constance made sure that if anyone messed with me, they would have to deal with her.”

Constance remembered how Marie never wanted to be normal. She liked the strange and macabre. It actually amused Constance. But she loved her sister.

“So when she started slipping away from me, it scared me.” She heard Marie saying. “Here was my big sister. My protector. Slipping away from me. We saw the signs. I think she did too, but it was too late. After the first slap, it was too late. After the first time he told her she was nothing, and no one would ever want her, it was too late.”

Constance felt the shame and fear again. She wanted to run to Marie and tell her she was here. She was OK. But she couldn’t move.

“I tried to help her leave a couple of times. She always said oh he’s sorry. He won’t do it again. He bought me flowers. Took me out for a nice dinner. He didn’t mean it. But he did mean it. And the night I witnessed it firsthand was the night I lost my sister. I tried to stand up to him. But she told me to leave. And I never came back. That night he broke her nose. But I couldn’t be there for her.”

Constance remembered that night. She wanted so much to protect Marie. And she didn’t want her to see all that.

“So when I heard she was in the hospital, near death, a few years later, I dropped everything. I ran to her side. I vowed then and there that I would protect her. They finally locked him up. They finally got him. They finally listened to her pleas. They finally did something.”

People in the audience started murmuring; some even clapped. Some cheered.

“Yes!” Marie shouted. “Clap. Cheer. Yell. It’s OK. I did. He wasn’t getting away with it this time. I went to the hospital every day. Praying for her to come back to me. It didn’t matter that years had passed. She was my sister. My love for her never went away. Never died. And after she woke up, I still went every day to help her recover. She had to relearn how to walk. How to eat. How to take care of herself again. It was hard. I’m not going to lie. It was painful. This man took my world from me for years. But I was taking her back.”

Constance openly cried now. She was slowly realizing what was happening. She survived. And had her sister back. Now she was glad she didn’t die.

“But Constance and I were not the only victims. Our parents fought by my side. But his power was too much. All we could do was pray daily. They are here tonight. Helping us celebrate this win. But the pain is still too much for them to talk about. I love you, Mom. Dad. You are true warriors.”

The crowd cheered. Constance‘s parents stood briefly. They looked happier than she had seen them look in a long time.

“There is still another victim in this story,” Marie said as the applause died down. “A future victim if you will. And he is here tonight. Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce you to Caleb.”

The crowd applauded again. Constance was confused again. Who is this man? She stared as a tall man with the most exquisite smile walked onto the stage. He had short dark brown hair. Muscular but not overly so. This man was gorgeous.

“Good evening. Thank you all for coming out and joining us on this journey. As Marie said, Constance will be out soon. But we wanted to remind everyone that there is never just one victim. Some of you here tonight know a victim, have lost someone, or are a victim yourself of domestic violence, and the fact that the laws are not where they need to be to protect victims is one of the main reasons we are all here tonight.”

Constance felt some things she couldn’t explain when the people started to stand and applaud. So why were all these people here?

“Constance will explain everything when she comes out. I’m just here to remind all of you, not everyone you meet is an abuser. To the survivors, don’t be afraid to try again with the right person. It takes time. The right person will give you that time. And love. In a safe place.”

Constance felt calm somehow.

“Being an EMT, I’ve seen my share of domestic violence victims. And my heart broke for each one of them. How could someone do this to someone they claim to love? That’s not love. That’s power. That’s ego. That’s pleasure in torture.”

Constance found herself mesmerized by this man.

“When I met Constance, I was instantly drawn to her. I knew she was a fighter. I knew she would survive. And I knew I wanted her in my life. I met Marie at the hospital one day when she stopped by to check on Constance. She told me Constance was waking up. Then and there I knew I had to spend every free moment I had helping this woman get back to who she was.”

Cheers again. This was some crazy roller coaster ride.

“It took a long time for her to trust me as a friend, let alone as a lover, then as a husband. But we got there. And I don’t mind at all proving to her every day that she can trust me. She could love me because I love her. And I just want to protect her from all the pain in the world. But we do still have struggles. Communication is the key. And that is always a top priority. So without further ado, please help me in welcoming Constance to the stage.”

Again, the crowd stands up and applauds. It actually lasts for a few minutes. Constance stares as she watches herself walk onto the stage. She looks healthy. No bruises. No casts. She was smiling. It was a genuine smile. She hugged the man on stage for a few moments. Then pulled back and kissed him. Right there in front of everyone. Constance motions for her sister Marie and hugs her as the crowd settles down. Constance keeps her arms around both of these people.

“Thank you all so much for being here tonight. I want to take a moment to let you know I probably wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for these two people right here. My beautiful sister Marie. And my amazing husband Caleb.”

More applause.

“These are my saving graces. I am here because of them.”

Her husband and sister both walked off the stage. Constance was alone now. And the spotlight was on her.

“And they will tell you, that I’m here because I fought. But that’s not true. Not entirely. I fought, but I fought for them. Not for me. Not at first. I had no love for myself. No self-respect. No self-esteem. Nothing. I still believed I was worthless. I didn’t deserve love. I was nothing. I mean that’s what I was told every day for years. So it must’ve been true. Right?” She paused. “Right?” She asked again.

Several people in the audience murmured in agreement. Some hung their heads in shame.

“Wrong,'' she said. “So wrong. Some of you are here because you know someone who is abused. And they may not have survived. And I’m so sorry for your loss. Deeply sorry. Some of you are here because you were the punching bag. You were the one lied to. Mocked. Raped. You. But look around. You are not alone. You thought you were. But you were not. And we are all here tonight to help.”

Applause erupted before Constance could speak again. She let them clap.

“Yes. That is something to applaud and celebrate. We are here tonight because we survived. We made it. Do we still live with it daily? Yes, we do. Do we still have nightmares? Yes, we do. Do we still think death would have been better? Sure. Hopefully not as much now, but I know it’s still in the back of your mind. Keep it there. Keep it there, but don’t let it creep to the front. Keep it there because there are more victims out there. And they are going to need our help. They are going to need to see that they can survive. It can get better. They’re not worthless. They are not nothing.”

The audience jumped to their feet and clapped so loudly. Cheers and whistles everywhere. Hell yeahs rang out throughout the room. Constance smiled. So did the Constance on the stage as she waited for them to settle down.

“I see mostly women here tonight. But let’s not dismiss the men who have been through this. That shame is so much more for them. And don’t think I’m discounting your shame. But in our society, men are the dominant sex. So how can a woman dominate a man? How can a woman have that power over a man? The same way a man does it to a woman. They start sweet and loving. Then they slowly pick away at everything until you believe them. Men can be just as susceptible. Don’t forget that.”

Several men in the audience looked around at each other. Then they dropped their eyes in shame. Constance felt bad for them.

“There is no shame in this room.” She said as if reading their minds. “None. No judgment. No shame. Clearly, you are not alone. I want all the men to stand up.”

Slowly, one by one, they did.

“You. Are. Not. Alone.” Constance told them.”You are not alone.” The men looked again, but did not look away. They all sat back down.

“I want to tell you about a place that means so much to me. It’s an old church that we converted. We are calling it Saving Grace. And it’s for the future survivors. It’s also for current survivors of any domestic violence. For the brothers and sisters. For the parents. For the friends. For the future spouses. It’s a safe place. It’s a haven for the abused. We have therapists to talk to. We have lawyers to help with legal issues. We have police officers willing to teach self-defense. We have ways to help others get out.”

Another round of clapping. It was thunderous. It was glorious.

“We are here to help you take your life back. We will help you. We will protect you. All you have to do is say I need help. That’s it. And just like that, you will be a part of our family. I never want to see anyone at death's door like I was. When they finally got to me, more than half my bones were broken. My head had been severely beaten in. They were almost certain I was brain dead. I was in casts for months. I had to relearn how to do everything. No one should ever have to go through that.”

Constance cried as she heard these words. She felt shame and fear. She looked up and the Constance on the stage was staring right at her.

“No one deserves that.” She said to Constance. Constance just let the tears fall.

When Constance blinked, she was back in the hospital. In that chair. The lady was still there.

“Welcome back.” The lady said.

“What was that?” Constance asked.

“Your destiny,'' the lady replied.

“Who are you?” Constance asked

“My name is Emeline. This is my chair.”

Constance slowly got up and walked over to the bed. She cried as she looked at the battered body lying in the bed. She turned around. The lady was still there, but the chair was gone.

“I don’t,” Constance stammered. “I don’t understand.”

“You will,” Emeline replied. She reached out and held Constance‘s face in her hands. “You will.”

Constance blinked again and now she knew she was in the bed. In her body. She felt the pain. But she felt something else. It took her a few minutes to realize it was a hand wrapped around her fingers. She slowly opened her eyes and saw Marie. Her sister. Something inside told Constance she was going to survive this. She squeezed Marie’s hand as a tear rolled down her cheek.

31:T42bf,

The Chair

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